


As Many Stars As Meets the Eye

by writingramblr



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Country & Western, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Movie(s), Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: The money bag remained, even as the surviving of the Seven didn't. Instead of leaving it, Emma decides to do what she thinks is right, and goes after Sam, Vasquez, and Red Harvest. Our favorite outlaw magician has one final trick up his sleeve as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically this is i don't know what the fuck.  
> i was basically in love with all of the Seven and super pissed they killed so many, as well as CHRIS PRATT'S character like i'm sorry, that's a sin i cannot live with.  
> so fuck it here's an AU where Faraday lives!
> 
> and in my head yes, Goodnight and Billy were totally platonic life partners, or not so platonic. idk.  
> wild west no homo sort of bros.  
> but yes homo.  
> and here, i mean, Chisholm was the one who asked about Faraday, and his face just fell when he heard he was dead...soooooooo....lets leave that open to interpretation.  
> and also Emma.....what a pint sized badass who i love to death. fiery haired gun wielding widows are my jam.  
> and i couldn't help it, i resisted shipping her with anyone, bc widowed like five seconds ago, but Chris's acting won me over, and also Denzel is like.......damn.  
> so this is an unconventional eventual threesome story.  
> its obviously a rarepair cause there's hardly any fic for this movie at all, so if this is the only one for my only weird ass ship, much like ID2, so be it.  
> idk how long it will be, but enjoy this first chap!

Emma glanced at the side of her horses saddle, when she’d had a chance to catch her breath, the image of Sam Chisholm atop his own mount, looking down at her like God from on High, a sad sort of smile twisting his mouth, was forever burned into her brain, and then she saw the black shining leather satchel, still hanging there.

Something inside her chest caught, and her thoughts ground to a halt.

The money.

It was forgotten.

He hadn’t taken the money.

The payoff.

Was he planning to supplement what was owed the surviving men from his own pocket?

Judging by the look of him, his attire, his mannerisms, he was not a poor man, but he’d been wary to accept her offer, and now look where they were.

Tears stung her eyes, and she pushed away Teddy’s questing glance with a shake of her head. She was fine, but things…were not.

She couldn’t allow Chisholm to do that.

Charity was for men of God, and Chisholm was no such thing.

*

The flames flickered in the corner of his eye, and he saw a shadow move over the dirt covered rockwalls a ways yonder, as Red Harvest moved into place, taking first watch.

Sam’s mouth twitched up into a sly grin.

He always insisted on first watch, seemingly holding regret over having let Horne die on his watch. The two were odd, but had clearly become friends in the last week.

Sam’s free hand balled into a fist, and he tried to ignore the itch in his throat that made him want to yell at nothing.

Faraday had been a pain in the ass, and a smart alleck to boot, but he’d been a good man, and deserved better than he’d gotten.

Offering to take out the Gatling had been suicide, Sam had known that, but he’d been hoping, praying, in a way, just for one last trick, one last sleight of hand that would allow the Irishman to make it out alive.

Again the fire stole his train of thought, and he realized what it reminded him of. Not Red’s warpaint, but Mrs….Miss, Cullen’s hair.

A scarlet hue almost like blood, so dark it had been, flattering with her pale skin and light smattering of freckles.

Oh he’d noticed.

Faraday might have done all the talking and yacking about flirting even if he didn’t dare step a toe out of line, for their boss, so dubbed ‘Joan of Arc,’ but Sam wasn’t blind.

It had been the only reason he’d stopped, for although her companion had made a compelling case, it was the truth in her eyes that truly tipped him over, and made him say yes.

Goodnight had been right and wrong in a few ways.

He saw his sisters in every woman in trouble, but it hadn’t been that that made him want to keep Miss Cullen out of the fight.

It was simply something more.

Deep down, he had been afraid for her.

Afraid she’d let that quest for vengeance take over her reason, and logical thought would fall by the wayside.

Yes, she’d gotten her justice and righteous end to the battle, but it had been hard fought.

He rubbed two fingers together, and for a second he could pretend he wasn’t just feeling the grit and dried blood of a hard day’s ride, but instead the silky soft strands that were the same color of that liquid.

The moon dimmed behind his closing eyes, and it seemed like only minutes later that he felt a pebble tap his boot.

There had been no second watch.

Red Harvest had let him sleep through the whole night.

One more day and they’d reach the train station, and then home was only hours from there.

Sam gritted his teeth, and raised his hat, looking to the morning sun, seeing the pink and red and purple streaking the clouds.

Damn, that was a beautiful sight.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO, i've been writerblocked for over 3 weeks so if this sucks, that's why. i'm fucking out of practice.


	2. Chapter 2

The last sighting of Chisholm had been at the station, two days ride from town, and Emma wasn’t sure Teddy would like it, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to drag him along, pull him from work and his family, all for her to go on a seemingly foolish errand.

He’d told her,

“They musta left it for some reason…why can’t you respect that?”

Emma had shaken her head, and fought the urge to stop her foot.

“I am not letting them just walk away. They saved our town, they risked their lives, and they lost…”

She had been unable to continue, clapping a hand to her mouth, and blinked rapidly to fight off tears.

Three new graves, taller and grander than the rest, could be seen from the shell of the church, where she stood arguing with Teddy.

They had not yet found Faraday’s body, and she feared something terrible, like perhaps there was nothing to find, she had no idea how close he’d been to the final explosion he’d set off. Neither had anyone else known.

She left and it was still early morning, the dew still dampened the grass, and the sun was barely a glow in the distance, but she loved it, loved the smell of the air, and the clear view, with no dust yet kicked up.

She clicked her tongue, and patted the side of her horse’s neck, before spurring it on gently, tapping its sides with her boot toes.

She refused to wear the spikes on the back of her boots that most cowboys and women did. She couldn’t stand the idea of hurting the animals.

It had always been that way, horses she respected far more than men, most times.

They had never done her wrong.

She gladly put down three coins to ensure the creature would have a decent place to stay, if she ended up being gone a week or more; she’d given Teddy instructions to come retrieve her mount.

She’d not ridden on a train in so many years, not since first coming to Rose Creek, with Matthew by her side, and a wide eyed dream of something special that they could call their home.

That dream wasn’t quite dead and buried, so much as in the past, and not nearly as bright of a thought as it once had been.

Emma considered all the elements, and she knew, if it came down to it, she might never return to Rose Creek if she could help it. Lest of all alone.

The bag weighed heavy at her side, and the rumble of the tracks beneath the car was not soothing enough to allow her to sleep. It wasn’t until the sun was nearly rising again that she finally dozed off into a fitful spite of rest.

Her pistol at her waist was hidden by the satchel, but she didn’t expect any trouble.

But for the hairs on the back of her neck, standing up and making her jerk back to full alertness, she wouldn’t have known something was wrong.

 _She was being followed_.

*

Sam poured himself a half glass of whiskey, and kept on going.

The glass was nearly overflowing, and Red Harvest was laughing at him.

“First home, you drink for death?”

Sam glanced over at the man, and shook his head.

“Nah. Not for death. I’m taking a drink for every good man we lost. I know Faraday would do half the bottle on his own, so it’s more like…symbolic.”

The bottle was a fair size, so when he’d nearly halved it himself, he offered it to Red Harvest, and the man sighed, before accepting it.

“White man knows liquor.”

Sam blinked, and then nodded.

“One of the few things they get right.”

“Brothers in arms.”

Red intoned, and Sam lifted his glass, careful not to spill a drop, before bringing it to his lips, and taking a deep draw.

The burn was the most unpleasant part of it all, but a necessary one. Once the glass was empty, Red was smiling, perhaps more so at him than with him, and Sam was feeling rather relaxed, enough that he grew bored, and strolled, lazily, to the window, to see the sun setting.

Another day ended, and another day that he kept the truth from Red.

The money.

He didn’t have it.

True, only three shares were owed, and Vasquez had been in the hospital for most of the time they’d been in Dallas, and he’d gotten resettled at his ranch, the Mexican had not been bothered to ask about it.

But Sam knew he couldn’t hide it for long.

He could of course, afford to pay them both for their services rendered, but the other side of it was, he wasn’t ready to part ways with them.

He hadn’t had many friends in the ‘bounty’ business, and Goodnight had been his oldest one, and the truest.

It smarted most of all, even worse than losing Faraday.

“Someone is coming.”

Red’s voice stirred him from his reverie, and Sam jerked his head from the window, blinking once, twice, as the bright orange of the sun still dominated his vision.

“Which way?”

“The station.”

The city was spread out, somewhat, and Sam had a house with a decent amount of land, but he was still ‘in town’ and the station was only a short buggy ride away.

Spools of barbed wire and high fences were usually intimidating enough for most, but if his name plastered on the side of his mailbox and gate front wasn’t enough, his reputation usually kicked in the last bit of sense in any criminal or nefarious doer’s mind.

“How?”

“By horse.”

Maybe it was a reporter, or some of the like?

There had been an unusual spreading of the word about what had happened in Rose Creek, though it was well over three hundred miles away.

Sam decided he didn’t care, and he was just drunk enough to be friendly, besides, worse case; he had Red at his back.

He winced.

Assuming that would be the case for anything over three more days was horribly inconsiderate, and he hated himself for it.

Stumbling down his staircase, and out his front door, he squinted at the figure in the distance.

Horseback, slender, and long haired.

Something inside his gut clenched, and he blinked, his inner eye swimming with the memories, the image, the last moment he’d seen her.

“Mister Chisholm! Please, you’ve got to help me! Someone has been following me since I boarded the train, and though I had truer intentions, I now find myself in need of one last favor from you. I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t think the sheriff would be bothered after hours…and there isn’t another train until morning.”

He didn’t bother asking how she’d opened his gate, picked the lock no doubt, and he didn’t ask what she needed of him, he just nodded curtly, and his hand moved steadily to his holster.

Oh no, he hadn’t taken it off, even at home and comfortable.

He could sense Red behind him, on the balcony overlooking the front drive, and when Emma Cullen rode up to the stoop, pulling her borrowed horse to a halt, she practically jumped off before it had fully stopped moving.

She looked nearly hysterical, and he wondered if paranoia had fueled her journey, or if something else…

The black leather satchel around her shoulders, hugging her side.

Oh.

He blinked, and then she was before him, throwing her arms around his neck, and whispering something about how she felt safer now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Sam live in Dallas, in a fancy abode, because lets be honest, even if he never retires, he's fucking loaded and he'd treat himself right.
> 
> IDK how far that actually is from wherever Rose Creek is. upon a google search, the first result of Rose Creek was texas....sooooooooo. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> anyway hope ya'll enjoy this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Renting a horse wasn’t any cheaper than catching a buggy ride, but Emma was damned if she was going to show up looking like some high and mighty lady of the city that she sure wasn’t.

The eyes on the back of her neck had not let up, and she was afraid to stop moving, afraid to let the darkness fall around her, and leave her alone but for her gun and her money.

She’d not even brought a bag of clothing or food.

The trip had taken a half day and then some, but she didn’t feel a pain in her stomach but for the need to find Sam Chisholm.

Luckily, he was quite well known, even if mentioning his name brought more sneers than words of admiration. It didn’t matter to her. She knew the truth of his character.

The house that was his took her breath away, but as much from fear and urgency as it did awe.

Seeing him, she had not been prepared for how she would react, but throwing herself at him, with no shame, was all she could do.

His breath was hot on her cheek, and smelled strongly of whiskey, but she did not blame him. His hand was unwavering on her back, and his other arm braced, preparing to draw his gun, as he murmured,

“How long has he been following you?”

“Since the station outside the Creek, I fear.”

She breathed in reply, and then felt him moving her, gently, but firmly to his side, and then he was stepping past, in front of her, shielding her instantly from any possible threat.

“Show yourself! You’re outmanned, outgunned, and in the wrong town to be causing trouble by harassing a lady.”

His voice was clear as a bell, and loud enough to echo around his entire yard.

There had been no sign of anyone out of the ordinary on her ride to his home, but now, a shadow moved, and the gate opened again.

“Now, you wouldn’t shoot me, really Chisholm? After I took three bullets for you?”

Impossibly, the lilt of the man’s voice seemed to tell all he was grinning, and two hands rose and parted from the shadow, as it stepped closer, and the setting sunlight fell across his face.

Emma pushed past Sam and gasped aloud.

“Joshua Faraday? As I live and breathe, I’ve seen things in my life, but no such thing as a man to come back from the dead!”

Sam was still pointing his gun at the man before them, and yet he did not have his finger on the trigger,

“You son of a bitch Faraday…that line about your vest…you meant something else entirely.”

Emma clapped a hand to her mouth, and the Irishman stepped closer, grinning broadly indeed, and shrugging his shoulders slightly,

“I sure did. I’m a magician remember? Not just a pretty face.”

He winked at Emma, and she knew it was probably to put her more at ease, but all she had was questions, and far too many to know where to begin.

It certainly explained the lack of a body, and the reason he’d bothered following her all that way, because he probably wanted his pay too.

None of that mattered, when he got close enough, she stepped into his open arms too.

Behind her, she heard Sam mutter something about needing to sit down after drinking for that ‘Irish bastard.’

She squeezed her eyes shut, and felt Joshua’s arms wrap around her.

*

Jealous was a strong word for it probably, too strong considering the pounding going on inside his head at the moment, but he wanted nothing more than to pry Miss Cullen, gently, off the goddamned ‘magician’ and hug him so tight he couldn’t breathe.

Of course he’d been wearing a bullet-deflecting vest. He’d heard of such things, deemed them cheating, but for a card shark and so called trickster like Faraday, no wonder he’d resorted to that.

God bless him for it too.

He called out to Red, slurring his words more than a little, and he felt a strong arm on his, only to turn and find the man himself, smiling broadly and telling him he’d be needing a drink after the long ride and all the work he’d done, ensuring their lady arrive safely.

She was giggling, actually more like gasping for air for laughing, and Sam decided he would have downed a whole bottle if it meant getting to see Faraday walking around his house, talking, living, breathing, and in general not being gone.

He had one more friend, and no more need to lie.

Red Harvest clapped him on the shoulder, and said in his broken English that he needed some air, which Sam took to mean he was going to check on Vasquez, and so he nodded.

“Tell him its payday when he’s stitched up.”

He saw Red nodding to Miss Cullen, and she smiled softly in reply. The Native had never told him the exact circumstances, but he knew that Brogue’s own Native had come quite close to killing their boss, and as such, he’d been forced to fight him, and saved her life.

“So tell me, how much do I have to chug to catch up to you? I’ve never seen you look so bored.”

Faraday was saying, gesturing to the nearly empty bottle, which Sam had technically shared with the Comanche, and now Emma was smiling, almost knowingly.

“I ain’t bored yet. You’ve got my full attention. As does our lovely Joan of Arc. What brings you two out to come see me anyhow?”

Emma was licking her lips, her eyes still smiling, even as her face relaxed, and he got decidedly lost in the green orbs, though he’d meant to send a questing glance to Faraday.

Then her lips were moving,

“I had to…when I caught up, and I saw you had gone off and left the gold with me, I knew I had to see you. To thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Breaking the decidedly lighter mood, Emma stood, and unceremoniously dropped the black satchel on the table in front of the men, and she remained on her feet, biting her lip, and appearing unsure.

Faraday, to his credit, only glanced briefly at the gold spilling onto the wood, before turning to look at her.

“I hope you know I didn’t follow you because I wanted my cut.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue the point, only because he was feeling a bit left out, and Emma spoke up first instead,

“I know. I also had another favor to ask.”

Sam found his voice,

“And what might that be?”

His vision was beginning to swim, just slightly, so that it appeared in the light of the dining room, that there was a sort of glow around Miss Cullen’s face.

Hair just like fire, indeed.

“I’ve had my revenge, and my righteousness. But I do not want to die in that town. All I ask, is that you give me a chance. To do, whatever you need. I just…I won’t be a simple housewife, a homemaker. Never again. I want to make a difference in this world, big or small. I want to carry a gun at all times, but use it as a tool, like most woman use needle and thread.”

She was waiting, watching, and expecting him to say no, turn her down, tell her she didn’t belong there, in the middle of the danger, even that it was reckless of her to want to seek it out, but he couldn’t do any such thing, when the truth was, he wanted nothing more than to ride into the unknown with her…and his, friends too, if they were willing.

Sam blinked, and then nodded slowly.

“If you want me to give you a job, I can’t promise that my employers would take kindly to you doing exactly what I do, but I sure as hell could use another gun at my side.”

She was beaming the next thing he knew, and he got the sense Faraday was too, chuckling like some kind of mad man, and asking if he could finish the bottle and pour another.

Sam waved a hand around, giving his assent, and the next thing he knew, Emma was clasping it, shaking it, and assuring him he wouldn’t regret it.

“Miss Cullen, you’ve seen a long travel, would you like me to escort you to a guest room?”

He didn’t ask if she wanted a drink, he didn’t even look at Faraday.

The Irishman seemed to understand the unspoken plea, and Sam was grateful to him.

“Please, yes. I feel as if my feet might fall off if I don’t unlace my boots soon.”

She was smiling, prettily, and offering her arm to him.

He didn’t remember dropping her hand, but he took her arm without a thought.

She left the bag of gold behind, and didn’t look back.

Sam trusted Faraday, oh he trusted him, but he knew that there would be a hell of a shootout if the man tried anything stupid.

“So, tell me, how much have you really had? Should I be putting you to bed instead of the other way around?”

Was she joking?

Flirting like that?

Blatant as hell, and very much like the man they’d both left behind to drink himself just as silly?

“Uh…”

Emma, was stopping, and he realized they’d reached the first room. His house had several, and it panged inside him, knowing he could have gladly hosted all the Seven, if he could have.

“Don’t feel as if you have to answer that. It was rude of me.”

Before an apology could sully itself on her lips, he decided he’d taste them first, and blame it on the whiskey if she stopped him.

He hadn’t even opened the door, he just pressed her against it, and oh how soft and warm she felt.

One hand found her hip, and the other cupped her cheek, gentle as a morning breeze might kiss her skin, so he did.

Her lips parted beneath his, but not a word of protest emerged, only a sigh.

One of her hands clasped over the back of his hand, and the other fisted a handful of his shirt against his chest, right over his thumping heartbeat.

“Sam…”

The kiss broke just long enough for her to breathe his name, and he stopped at once.

She pressed her forehead against his, and seemed to fight for air.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that, after you proposed a business arrangement…I mis-stepped.”

He was muttering bullshit, trying to argue with himself that he didn’t want that, didn’t want to actually feel every inch of her creamy pale skin underneath his rough hands.

“I disagree.”

Two little words, shining and glorious.

He licked his lips, and ripped his eyes open, staring at her, and finding her cheeks flushed, and her own gaze sparkling with something like curiosity.

“Is that right?”

“I’d very much like a tour of this guest room you’re giving me. If you’re alert enough.”

Sam grinned, perhaps not sober instantly, but certainly his vision had cleared.

“It would be my genuine pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahah oops.  
> my shipping goggles are showing.  
> and no, i did not honestly believe Denzel was 61 until i saw it with my own eyes.  
> uh, wut?  
> how.  
> how??  
> idk.  
> i'm a sinner. sorry.  
> but you knew this.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma wasn’t quite sure if she knew what the _hell she was doing._

The moment Sam had stopped walking, and she had begun to ask if the door led to her granted room, everything had happened so fast.

He’d pushed her against the door and kissed her, stolen her breath and wiped her mind blank of all thoughts except one.

Sam tasted like smoke and fire, from the liquor she was sure, and she never wanted him to stop.

Her heartbeat had thundered in her chest, and she’d sworn butterflies had taken flight inside the hollow where she thought she’d never feel anything or be in danger of falling for someone again.

She’d let herself become consumed by the ultimate goal, so much so that grief had taken a backseat.

Along with several other things.

No man had she even looked at, or allowed herself to, after all, scarcely a month widowed, not even a true funeral for Matthew, and here she was, whoring herself out to the man she’d hired to help her seek revenge.

No.

That was harsh on herself.

She was able to have a bit of joy, in times of such sorrow.

She deserved to _feel_ happy, if only for a moment.

Originally, she’d only dared let herself admire Joshua, and indeed, it was probably expected.

The young and handsome man of the same race, more or less.

Didn’t matter. The heart wanted what it wanted.

Whom.

Sam's protectiveness hadn’t been merely as platonic as it had originally seemed.

Well, it was a welcome thing.

She found herself gliding on air, almost, throughout the next morning, having woken up beside a softly snoring Sam, and she’d bitten her bottom lip to keep from smiling at the vision.

It wasn’t to be anything permanent.

It wasn’t even something that could be allowed to happen again, truly, if they were to work together, to be partners, as much as a woman and a man of his color could be a pair of bounty hunters.

“Someone got a bit of shut eye.”

Faraday.

Of course.

He hadn’t left.

He’d probably drank a few glasses, realized they weren’t coming back, or at least that Sam wasn’t, and crawled off to a guest room of his own.

But there he was now, in the kitchen, present, and in need of attention.

Maybe not all the answers, but she wouldn’t lie to him either.

“Mister Faraday. I slept well. How about yourself?”

She managed a small smile, polite, courteous, until he got up so swiftly it made her jump, and he was blocking her way to the sink, to the stove, to anything, but his broad shoulders and spicy smelling cologne.

“I slept better than I’d ever. Even through that racket.”

A blush bloomed in her cheeks, and her eyes dropped from his face, neck, shoulders, anywhere but him truly, the floor was quite interesting to observe, there were swirling patterns in the polished wood slats.

He still didn’t move.

Again, she could feel his eyes on her, and though her skin prickled with heat, she could not dare to meet his gaze.

“I just wish you’d invited me.”

His arm was no longer blocking her, but instead curving to reach around her, fingers just shy of lascivious on her waist, and his warm breath was tickling her face, smelling of mint.

He’d not been drinking coffee or liquor that new day then yet.

“I don’t know what you’re asking…Mister Faraday.”

She stammered over his name, fighting the urge to use his given first name, still coming to grips with the fact that he was truly there and present, and she’d not dreamed up half the events of the last night.

The soreness between her legs was evidence of that much, and the bites unseen, the love marked bruises on her body was further such.

“Call me Joshua…and color me very much interested. Next time…promise?”

He was smirking, she could most certainly hear it, even before she dragged her eyes over his chest, the telltale shifting of his shirt as he slowly inhaled, awaiting her reply, and his lips were obscenely pink, parted slightly over very white teeth.

Maybe he’d given up smoking.

“What’s going on here gang? Having a nice morning catch-up?”

She didn’t quite so much as breathe a sigh of relief, but she felt her entire body relax at the sound of Sam’s voice, shattering the tension that had seemed to keep rising, like a cresting wave, with no sign of breaking.

Joshua instantly dropped his hand from her, and yet her skin burned where he’d touched her, innocently enough, and he was greeting their host, babbling some nonsense about needing to know where they’d be getting their breakfast.

Sam chuckled, and nodded towards the front of the house.

“Red Harvest is escorting our Mexican friend back, and it appears as they’ve brought the grub.”

His eyes found hers, and he seemed to be asking if she was all right, had she slept well, and was everything okay, all in one glance.

More than okay.

She nodded, and heavy footsteps sounded on the front porch, shortly before Joshua pushed out the door, and called a greeting to Vasquez.

There were a couple short woops, and the men were suddenly chattering a mile a minute, while Emma simply stood back and watched, a smile slowly overtaking her nerves.

*

Sam flexed a hand, and eyed the Irishman carefully, but it didn’t seem as if he’d said anything, or done anything stupid, yet, to offend Emma.

She just appeared on edge, more so than usual.

Of course, so much had changed so quickly in the last twenty-four hours, it was to be expected, perhaps.

He didn’t blame her, if she’d decided to tell him no, what they’d done was a mistake, and they should never speak of it again, but she hadn’t…yet.

It was strange, but as he watched Faraday and Vasquez interacting, he felt that nudge in his gut again, that thing just a shade too much like jealously.

Just from them talking?

They weren’t exactly holding hands and singing love songs.

He bit the inside of his cheek, and tore his eyes off the pair, back towards Emma. It was pretty bizarre, he accepted, even taking into account something like what he seemed to truly want.

Reminding himself of Goodnight and Billy wasn’t quite strong enough.

It was more of the slowly creeping dread that threatened when he imagined everyone leaving but Emma.

Oh they’d all be friends, well paid and content, but they’d be going their separate ways, possibly forever.

Magician or not, Faraday couldn’t possibly be able to consider…

Emma’s hand was on his arm, and she was passing him a foil wrapped biscuit and sausage with egg.

It smelled delicious, nearly as wonderful as the coffee that was currently simmering on a low boil across the house in the kitchen.

He had gone through a mug full already, and the headache from the overabundance of whiskey had more than faded, leaving him clear as a bell, and twice as alert.

He had a strange itch to go riding, and put in some target practice.

“Are you all right?”

Emma was asking.

She’d noticed.

Known him once for a few hours and already she was seeing far too much of him than he was comfortable with.

He blinked, and nodded, taking the last sip of lukewarm coffee.

“Fit as a fiddle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Film Noir AU has been getting a lil bit out of hand and will be updated soon xoxo
> 
>  
> 
> idk if they had prepackaged breakfasts back then either but um....this IS an AU. sooooo...


	5. Chapter 5

Joshua wasn’t as stupid as he liked to come off, as it tended to make men underestimate him, and even charmed women while they turned him down. He always preferred to have the upper hand in social situations.

The dynamite had been a last minute gamble, and it had certainly been close enough to make him deaf for about two days, or one and a half.

But as soon as he’d come to, realized a couple things, namely, he wasn’t dead, his steel shirt had managed to snag all three bullets, and although his chest fucking ached like a horse had kicked him, he knew it was more than past time to get up on his feet, and go find the scarlet haired goddess.

He’d planned on just begging her forgiveness for scaring everyone, for letting them think he was among the dead for so long, and instead he’d come upon her taking a horse in the early morning, and leaving town, none too subtly.

The woman who had been Rose Creek’s guardian angel was stealing away, and not asking for any ceremony.

He decided he liked her even more for it.

But of course there was no question, he was going to follow her, keep her safe, and find out just where she was running to.

Careful as he was, he was quite out of practice, and more than a little woozy still, his head pounded nearly as much as his sore ribs.

Drawing as little attention to himself once on board the train was quite difficult, and he just barely obtained an old newspaper to hide behind, but he swore she caught a look or two at him, and he could only hope she thought she’d seen a ghost, or that his hat hid his face enough.

She wasn’t the sort to approach a stranger on a train, and luckily, that saved him.

She was still more than clever, and running up to Chisholm screaming bloody murder was almost enough to make him roll his eyes.

If he’d been someone intent on _actually_ harming her, that little display would have more than scared him away.

As it turned out, he managed to get nearly identical looks of shock on the pair’s faces. Emma surprised him, when she threw herself at him, hugging him so tight he broke character to wince.

Chisholm meanwhile, though he’d been surprised to see him, acted his stoic bounty hunter self, and merely nodded, a tight smile forming on his face.

No such embraces would be granted from that one.

The Mexican however…

Nah he didn’t either, beyond a hearty clap on the back and a hand squeezing his shoulder, then again, Vasquez had actually been shot, and apparently recovered in record time, going to the hospital only after being quite literally threatened by Chisholm.

That didn’t surprise Joshua, the outlaw seemed to be more rebellious than ever, since proving himself more than just a face on a poster.

In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Chisholm himself had vouched for the man, paid his medical expenses out of his own pocket.

Within a day, Joshua had managed to fuck up two things royally.

He’d slipped up and maybe handed off too strong a hint to Emma of his interest and intention, and he’d nearly given in to kissing her right there in the kitchen, with the morning sun warming his back.

She’d just looked so pretty, sweet even, with a healthy flush of her cheeks, hair in an untidy braid and the shadow of a love bite on her collarbone that not even a scarf could hide.

He wasn’t jealous, not at all, he would be more than happy to give her a matching set, and would have paid good money to be able to hear just how glorious she sounded when she touched heaven, but damned if Chisholm hadn’t beat him to the punch.

He’d been right clever, taking her to her room, and staying by her side.

If Joshua had said something smart, gotten to his feet with her, and asked where he could lay his head, maybe things would have gone differently.

That night, after a day of lingering around town, finding nothing in particular that amusing, beyond a decently priced liquor shop, and giving the loud and neon lit brothel a pass, in fact, nearly half a dozen of them, Joshua returned to Chisholm’s house, bottles in hand, and a sort of determination settling on his heart.

Or in his gut.

He was done playing games, and over pretending to be something noble that he was not. Flirting might have been a good way to subvert expectations and snag attentions, but it was no more, no more dancing around it.

He wanted to take the second chance God had given him, and put it to good use.

Knocking, merely for the formality, or so that he wouldn’t find a dagger thrust under his nose from a certain native, he strolled into the front hallway and curved around to the dining room, holding his prizes high.

“Restocking, that’s the name of the game. You finished a whole damn bottle on my behalf, and that didn’t sit well with me. So here’s that, and another, a sweeter variety, for the lady to enjoy partaking in.”

He nodded to Emma, who was sitting in a chair, right beside Chisholm, while Vasquez and the Native flanked them on each side.

Vasquez was the first to react, grinning broadly and waving him closer.

“You come bearing gifts, sit your ass down and pour us all a new glass.”

Joshua smirked back,

“What have you been drinking? I won’t have you sullying a mixed palette with this. This is no palette cleanser.”

The Native looked at Chisholm, as if confused, and Joshua realized how little of his broken English had probably applied there.

“He’s trying to act like some fancy shit from Europe. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

The Mexican rolled his eyes, and patted Emma’s hand, and Joshua noticed her start slightly, as if she hadn’t been paying attention. Her eyes had been on him all the time.

He just hoped it wasn’t disgust he was reading in her eyes.

Amusement would be better, something he could work with.

He made a show of opening the different bottle, after setting aside the replacement whiskey, and he sniffed the top, sighing in mock ecstasy,

“Now _that_ , is the nectar that those bible carriers were speaking of.”

He set it down in front of Vasquez, nodding for him to pour and pass it along, and Chisholm spoke up, interrupting his train of thought.

“Some say Texas is the land of milk and honey, with railroads and oil fields, and more cattle than they can sell or butcher. You think it will last?”

He wasn’t asking anyone of them in particular, but Joshua saw his eyes flicker to Emma before landing on the bottle as it came his way.

Vasquez snorted,

“Built on the back of my ancestors land, murdered and pillaged and stolen, yes. Riches can be reveled in, but I think they forget too soon where they got them. No God would approve of such things.”

Chisholm shrugged and handed the bottle to Emma, their fingers only met briefly, but Joshua felt his throat tighten at the sight.

“White men do some things right. But they cannot see where they fail.”

The Native intoned solemnly, taking the bottle only to pour what could be called three fingers worth into his glass, before nodding to Joshua, and setting it aside, in the center of the table.

Joshua pulled up a chair, and then snatched the bottle back, before taking a long draw from the mouth of it.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Chisholm chuckled,

“I think maybe some white men can have the veil lifted, you’re our perfect example. Cheers to that.”

“Cheers.”

Emma’s voice was soft, but her smile was sweet, and Joshua felt as if maybe, just maybe, he’d redeemed himself in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> josh x vasquez bromance is my literal weakness my god.
> 
> also updates will be sporadic, i am attending a wedding this weekend and may have spotty internet coverage in my hotel.
> 
> xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm a horrible person and im sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its only been 3 weeks since i updated lmao no biggie right.
> 
> sorry life has been kicking my ass

The Irishman was up to something, Emma could feel it, deep down in her gut, but once she’d had more than a sip of his gracious gift of honey tasting whiskey, she decided it was pointless to be mad. Holding grudges wasn’t something she did easily anyhow, so there was no point starting now.

When everyone but Sam and Faraday had retired, Vasquez claiming he shouldn’t have mixed so much liquor with his weaning painkillers, and Red Harvest with broken excuses cobbled together out of thin air, she couldn’t help but take the final gulp, finishing off her glass, and hoping she wouldn’t fall down when it was her turn to walk up to her room.

“So what will you do? You’ve got enough money to go anywhere in the world, travel halfway around it, and then some.”

Sam seemed to croon, or maybe that was just to her ears, foggy with booze.

Faraday shrugged, an easy smile playing over his lips.

They were still obscenely pink for a mans, and it irked her for some reason.

“Well I’ve seen an awful lot of this country, spose I may try to go somewhere next that’s a bit more green and a lot less dry. I’ve always wanted to sleep by the sea. Smell that salt air, see the sun emerge from the mess of blue and feel sand between my toes that ain’t gonna make my feet dirty.”

Emma felt her fingers twitch, and her breath catch in her chest. How did he manage to paint such an appealing picture, with only his imagination to draw the inspiration?

She knew well and good that the rivers and lakes she’d seen and forded and bathed and washed in were not the only sorts of bodies of water out there, but she couldn’t even conjure up a vision of the like.

Not to mention, green stretches of land, and trees that weren’t merely skeletons of life half the year. What would that be like?

“I reckon it’d be fucking gorgeous, if you pardon my French.”

Emma blushed hotly, realizing she’d accidentally spoken her last query aloud, and she bit her lip, before raising her eyes to meet Faraday’s, defiant,

“That’s not French if I know anything.”

Sam, beside her, let out a long laugh, from deep within his chest, and she found herself smiling, before giggling a bit along with him.

Faraday, for his part, looked equally surprised and pleased.

He clearly hadn’t meant to make a joke of that.

“Okay, okay, enough of that talk around a lady. Let’s be civil now.”

Sam took another drink, and lifted his empty glass to Faraday, before slamming it down on the table, upside down.

Emma took that to mean he was done drinking, and frankly she wasn’t sure she could have lasted another round.

Faraday looked only slightly disappointed, but he drowned his pout with a final sip from the bottle, before slamming it down as well.

“Apologies. But if I may, escort you upstairs, lest you fall on your pretty little head?”

Emma felt her breath catch in her chest, and as she watched, Sam and Faraday locked eyes, maybe for a touch longer than they should have.

Sam didn’t say a word, he just nodded slowly.

Emma gulped.

What was happening?

He didn’t want her…by his side, again?

Even as she stood, graceful and polite on the outside, she was seething and cursing herself for being so foolish and pathetic on the inside, barely feeling Faraday as he took her arm, and walked her carefully to the staircase.

She didn’t even look back, Sam didn’t deserve her words of goodnight, and she certainly wasn’t going to play the damsel.

*

 Joshua was more than a little torn, and confused. He hadn’t expected his plan to go so well, and Chisholm hadn’t even put up a fight for her.

Not that she _belonged_ to him, or anyone for that matter, but they had a history…ish.

She leaned on his arm quite heavily, and every step was painful, merely because he didn’t want to just say goodnight and goodbye.

He wanted to see her eyes light up when hearing of green places, and wondering how sea air could taste, he imagined her swimming for the first time in salty water, and he could see nothing else but a vision of her as some kind of wild mermaid creature, red hair damp on her shoulders, all that could be covering her chest, and he knew her lithe legs would take her far, with just a few kicks.

She’d love the ocean, he knew it deep down in his very soul.

“Well, this is me.”

She spoke up, yanking him out of his head, back into the present, and his head swam with things he should have said, but he could only focus on one thing.

“Emma…Miss Cullen, you deserve the world, I hope you know that.”

She smiled at him, half drunk and half asleep likely, and shook her head sorta gentle like.

“You use that line on all your girls?”

Joshua shook his head, and throwing caution to the winds, dropped his arm from beneath hers, only to reach up and lift her chin with his index finger, curled towards himself,

“I haven’t even tried to pick up any woman since I laid eyes on you, and I don’t aim to start up again.”

She wasn’t quite forced to look at him, but she couldn’t easily look away either,

“Mister Faraday…I don’t quite know what you think you’re saying…but I assure you, I don’t need your sympathy.”

Joshua grinned, and tilted his head, leaning in closer, as close as she’d allow,

“I ain’t giving you that.”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, about five seconds before they fell all the way shut, and she was just there, before him, poised to be kissed and ripe for the picking.

It was almost unfair.

His hand shifted beneath her chin, and slid up to cup her cheek, and she sighed, gentle, and soft, before he closed the distance between them.

She had a hand on his arms, braced below his elbows, gripping as tight as she could, but she couldn’t hurt him, not without a gun in hand.

She tasted like honey and cinnamon, like the hard candies the same color as her hair from the drugstore, and he thought he might die of thirst for never having kissed her til that instant.

Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and he fought the urge to snicker. Volcano of fiery spirit she was indeed, and so much more.

Her nails were digging into his skin, even through the fabric of his shirt, and he wondered if he ought to ease back, to stop, to resume tucking her in, with pure and innocent intentions as he’d never had, when she did it first, backing away so that their mouths broke with a soft smack.

“That was a bad idea.”

She was saying, but her eyes said differently.

“If I overstepped, I do-“

She shook her head, cutting off his train of thought, his mindless apology he didn’t mean, and she sighed.

“I think I’ve just bitten off a bit more than I can handle. You, Sam, the whole thing, it’s just a horrible mess waiting to happen.”

That was the moment, the teetering edge of oblivion if he did not speak up and set things right. Joshua took a deep breath, and carefully took one of her hands,

“Emma, I think you misread my intentions. I do not wish to steal you away from Sam, but rather, I would hope you could consider me, also.”

She blinked at him, once, twice, and began to frown. Hazy from the liquor, yes, but not completely unable to draw logical conclusions.

“What are you saying? I should court…er, _see_ , both of you?”

Joshua shrugged,

“Ladies choice. But I do not think you should have to choose between us, if indeed you are interested in both of us.”

Emma was looking at him, decidedly, until she was not, and she was staring at something over his shoulder, and he felt his throat close up again, turning slowly to find Chisholm himself standing at the top of the stairs, watching them both, solemn and silent.

“Sam-”

Emma began, but he raised a palm, shaking his head,

“No need to defend yourself. You are your own woman and I make no claims otherwise. Partner in future endeavors or not, I will not stand in your way.”

Martyrdom did not suit Sam Chisholm, and Joshua told him as much, fully prepared to take a fist in the face, or the gut, for such an outlandish statement.

Emma was gaping at both of them, and Sam merely shook his head, but now he was smiling.

“I always knew I was gonna hafta have another chance to show you your smart mouth would get you in more trouble than it was worth.”

He didn’t duck, not even when Sam moved closer, hand raised, and Joshua merely closed his eyes, preparing for the blow.

A hand met his face, but not with any sort of force behind it, in fact, it moved back swiftly, and wrapped behind his neck, pulling him off balance, and Emma’s sweet gasp was more than enough to alert him that not all was happening as he predicted.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey, or maybe just the same prickling sort of jealous edge running up his spine that made him do it.

Either way, he was committed now, and he couldn’t back out.

Emma was beside them, gaping and perhaps shocked, more so than he was at his own actions, but it didn’t matter now.

He clapped a hand on the Irishman’s neck and yanked him against him so swiftly it took the man’s breath away.

He knew that Faraday had been expecting a punch or maybe a slap.

Instead, he pressed a kiss so fierce to the other mans mouth he didn’t have time for even a brief smart ass remark.

It had been what he’d really wanted to do the second the bastard had walked out of the night shadows and been decidedly _not dead_ , but he’d also not been sure he really knew what he was feeling.

Understanding and knowing could be completely different things, and being honest with himself was slowly becoming the agenda for every upcoming day.

Emma was still silent as the grave itself beside them, and Sam chuckled finally, ending the kiss, and winking at Faraday before dropping his hand from the man’s neck, and stepping over to her, taking her closest hand with his free one.

“So, I think we’re all on the same page now.”                                       

“Um…”

Faraday was rubbing a hand over his face, and then the other swept off his hat and tossed it aside, over the stair rails and into the living room below.

Emma, seemingly had assumed the diplomatic role, and piped up,

“So you’re all right with me…spending time with each of you?”

She was squeezing his hand, and he looked at her, warmly as he could,

“Of course. Besides, I consider myself lucky you asked me first. I think I’m about… twice your age?”

Faraday was rolling his eyes, and Emma looked more shocked at his deciding to focus on that, rather than the entire…situation.

“I’ll have you know I’m over a quarter century, so I’m not some wide eyed damsel.”

Faraday burst out, perhaps in protest,

“Not there’s anything wrong with damsels, I’ve known a few in my day…none as pretty as you, of course.”

There was that shit eating grin again.

Sam didn’t know if he liked it or wanted to wipe it off the man’s face.

“So you were going to give Joshua here your attentions, tonight, right?”

Sam squeezed her hand back, and eyed the man, before turning to her, awaiting her response.

“But…you kissed him. Was that just some kind of show of agreement, or am I wrong in thinking there’s something between you two?”

Ah. There it was. Emma was perceptive indeed, and he’d royally underestimated her.

Faraday…er, Joshua was blinking and nodding along, and if he wasn’t mistaken, licking his lips.

Well fuck.

“I’m just saying, we can all get along.”

“Maybe even without so much clothing on too.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he looked at her, having expected something of the sort from the Irishman, but not her, never her.

“Uh, what?”

She’d taken Joshua by surprise, and for that, she deserved a goddamn medal.

“I’m just sayin.’”

Now she was smiling, playing the innocent, but there was a definite gleam of mischief in those green eyes.

“Lead the way, my lady.”

Joshua waved a hand, and she was already reaching behind her, twisting the doorknob and throwing it wide, before dragging Sam inside along with her.

*

Emma wasn’t quite sure what the hell she was doing, and it was certainly aided by the warm and smooth sort of way her entire body felt, alight with the whiskey still, but she knew she’d made the right choice when she was standing in front of Sam, letting his eyes drink her in, just like any sort of vision.

Joshua’s hands were on her shoulders, baring them slowly, sliding the blouse down her arms, and away, god bless the boat neck design.

Her skirt was a bit more difficult, belted and laced in as it was, to ensure it didn’t go anywhere when riding. She never rode like a lady ought; it was far easier to straddle the horse proper, and less chance of falling off.

Meanwhile, she wasn’t about to let herself be the first one naked in the moonlight, so she got to work unbuttoning Sam’s vest, and loosening the necktie he wore for god knew why. It wasn’t Sunday, it was Saturday evening, yet, she appreciated the formality.

Well, actually, of course there was a reason for his wearing it. She’d only discovered it the night before, the first time she’d taken his clothes off.

She’d not been able to hear what he and Bogue had been speaking of, before she shot the bastard, but she had always wondered what their history had been. Seeing the scar, like a raised jagged line of a burn, around the bottom of his neck, just before his collarbone, told the whole story.

She had almost been afraid to ask, but she’d been caught staring, so he’d told her how he got it. Of course, in the name of fairness, that led to her exchanging a dark secret of her own, and the rest of the night only went up from there.

 

Back in the present moment, Emma realized that when Joshua’s hands left her waist, it was highly likely he was taking care of his own attire, and she only had to glance back to get an eyeful, confirming her suspicions.

“Lord have mercy on me.”

She murmured, and he chuckled, while Sam seemed to be unable to look away himself.

“Well, I spose it’s only fair he gets the first dance.”

His hands clasped over hers, halting all movement, and she resisted the urge to pout.

“I uh, I don’t suppose you have any sort of preventative things, teas or serums or rituals you do?”

Emma shook her head, and resumed undoing her skirt, before folding it up and setting it aside.

“No need for me. The Lord has seen fit to make my womb barren, or so the doctor’s said.”

She smiled, but it was a little forced.

Joshua’s face instantly sobered, and Sam was silent behind her.

That was her secret, and it wasn’t even supposed to come out like that, she’d meant to soften it, to dumb it down, make it less….foreboding.

“I’m so sorry Emma.”

She lifted a shoulder, and stepped closer to him, letting the moonlight bathe her with silver light, and she reached up to undo her braid, slowly, trying her best to play the alluring siren.

“It’s all right. I’ve come to terms with it, and I’ll live without the pitter patter of little feet.”

“C’mere.”

She was already fully prepared to kiss him, if only to distract him, but when he beckoned with open arms, she fell into them.

The top of her head just about came to his chin, so he only had to duck slightly to kiss her forehead, and it was nice, being held like that to simply be held.

Skin on skin certainly didn’t hurt, and she could feel his not so disinterest prodding against her stomach.

“I hate to interrupt, but I can’t feeling a little left out. I might steal a dance.”

Sam drawled, and Emma couldn’t help giggling a little. He knew exactly what to say to get her back on track.

“Absolutely. As soon as I’ve worn out this cowboy.”

She put both her hands on Joshua’s chest, and carefully backed him over to her bed, and he fell backwards, obligingly letting her climb over him, and he only looked away from her naked form to stare at her hair, under the light of the moon, it looked almost coppery.

“You are just the most stunning creature I’ve laid eyes on.”

She grinned,

“I haven’t even danced with you yet, and you’re being so sweet.”

“She tastes even sweeter.”

Sam piped up, and she blushed furiously, despite the situation.

Joshua’s hands had been sliding up her back and down to cup her ass, but they tightened now, hearing that, and the implications that followed.

“Is that right? Well I certainly look forward to finding out myself.”

Forget cursing in French, the best thing Emma had ever learned from them, was what Sam had done to her last night, after they’d…danced.

Normally, perhaps she should have been shy about being watched with another man, but Sam felt more like some sort of escorting partner, even if he wasn’t truly involved.

He was certainly watching both of them, and not just her. She leaned down to kiss Joshua and shifted her hips so that he could press his cock against her cleft, and she heard Sam moan aloud.

She grinned, and nibbled on Joshua’s bottom lip, teasing him as best she could, before reaching down with a free hand to line him up, and sink down on him fully.

She was practically shaking and nearly unsteady, she was more than aroused, she was burning with need for him.

It felt strangely good, just like Sam had, but a bit different, as if finding two sorts of liquor one could enjoy, separate, but they complimented each other well.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve a hankering for a kiss, from either of you.”

Sam was trailing a hand down her bare back, drawing mindless shapes on her bare skin, even as she moved over Joshua, and she gasped as he hit a spot inside her that was like pulling the trigger on a rifle.

She was fully prepared to be the one to include him, but instead Joshua guided her to sit back, and he was able to thrust even deeper, giving space for Sam to lean down and pull him in for a rough kiss.

Lots of teeth and tongue, as much as Emma could see, lost in some sort of mad bliss, and feeling the crest of her climax just moments from washing over her.

Like the same fever she’d felt the night before when Sam had first kissed her, but it was a raging inferno threatening to overwhelm her.

“Joshua…I’m…”

She was holding onto his shoulders, and she couldn’t help it, she dug her nails in so hard she felt the skin break, and she was shuddering over him, chasing the sensations as far as she could.

“She really is something ain’t she?”

Somewhere, words echoed around her mind, but when she came back down from her pleasure high, she realized both men were looking at her, looming over Joshua as she was.

“I, uh, well, that was a lovely occasion.”

Sam grinned, and Joshua looked about as shocked as she’d ever seen him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever danced so fast before.”

Emma was practically falling asleep, dazed atop him, and surely might have done so, had Sam not reached over and plucked her up into his arms, and told Joshua to scoot over.

After all, it was a decent sized bed, but she hadn’t thought it would hold them all.

Apparently, it could.

Emma snuggled up against Sam’s side, feeling Joshua press up on her backside, and a pair of lips placed a kiss on her shoulders.

“Promise you won’t run off in the morning?”

He whispered, into her skin almost as an afterthought, and Sam answered for her,

“We ain’t going anywhere.”

That was the last thing she remembered before her eyes closed for good, and sleep took her off on its wings.

*

Joshua wasn’t quite delirious from happiness, but pretty close. The arm he’d thrown over Emma’s bare torso in the night had somehow found his hand on Sam’s bicep.

So basically he was managing to touch them both, without much effort. It was comforting in a way he’d never thought he would know.

It wasn’t until Emma moaned out the sweetest sound that he realized they were both awake, and he was just pretending not to be.

Or rather, they’d beaten him to waking.

He usually rose with the sun anyway, so it was no bother to him.

“Whatcha doing to our lady luck?”

“Playing her like a piano.”

Sam rasped back in reply, and Joshua realized the arm he couldn’t feel was in between her legs, and she was just barely holding still, politely trying not to jostle him too much.

“Well fuck me. I want to help.”

Emma sighed, and turned around to open lazy green eyes,

“Kiss me then…I’m very close.”

Joshua smirked,

“This beats a pot of coffee any day.”

He shifted up onto an elbow and leaned in, closing the gap between them, while cupping a breast that seemed to be begging for a touch, and he kissed her so deeply he could drink down her next gasp.

He could feel her writhing about now that she wasn’t fighting it, and he peeked open an eye to see Sam quite determined, still working her over, one hand almost impossible to see, and the other stroking himself, fully prepared to paint her thighs with his release.

“Wait. You don’t want to be inside her?”

Joshua knew he was being obstinate, breaking the kiss to complain about something really none of his business, and Sam actually cocked a brow, but didn’t halt or slow his movements.

Incredible multitasking skills their bounty hunter had.

“Yes. Please, do.”

Emma moaned, and that was enough to snag Sam’s attention.

“You want to?”

She nodded, and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder, before he grinned broadly.

“Well damn, all right c’mere you.”

Both hands on her now, Sam demonstrated incredible strength for so early in the morning, pulling Emma overtop him, and lazily thrusting halfway inside her, clearly aided by how wet he’d already gotten her.

“No, I want you on top.”

She mumbled, clearly still a bit sleepy.

She kissed him, and then nipped at his jawline, and down his neck, placing a delicate kiss on his scar before sneaking a wink over at Joshua.

Okay.

“So bossy.”

Sam complained, with a roll of his eyes, and Joshua shifted over, simply watching the pair of them move.

Emma fell back against the bed, a smirk that could rival Joshua on a good day overtaking her face, and Sam hovered over her,

“Ready?”

“Yes please.”

Oh okay, she was really bad when she wanted to be. That little not so innocent plea was sexy as hell.

Well, the second Sam pushed back inside her, and she gasped, her eyes falling closed again, that was pretty sexy too.

“Gonna come for me?”

Emma was biting her lip, nodding, and Sam grinned.

“Good.”

He leaned down to kiss her, perhaps biting her lip for her, and Joshua watched as they moved together, in a perfect sort of dance that just had to be seen to be believed.

He could still feel the sting on his shoulders where she’d cut him, accidentally or not, when she’d first came the night before, and it was glorious to behold again, if indirectly.

Emma’s back arched and she clung to Sam so hard; it was as if she he was all she had to prevent drowning in the sensation.

Joshua found himself taking his quite frankly painfully hard cock in hand as he’d been watching, almost unconsciously, and it was a little embarrassing how fast he got off just seeing her riding out the aftershocks, and Sam was quite helpful in that arena, one of his hands lost between their bodies, clearly spurring her on.

“You know, I think I might get used to this sort of thing.”

Emma smiled, brighter than the sun poking through the curtains, and Sam let out a chuckle,

“I think that could be arranged. Maybe.”

Emma was the one crooning now, and she reached up to stroke Sam’s cheek,

“Why don’t we hire him too?”

Sam cocked a brow at her, and Joshua bit back a mad urge to laugh. She wasn’t even his for a day, and she was calling the shots.

As well she should.

Clearly, she was the reason for all the events leading up to that moment, so Joshua supposed he owed her some thanks.

Maybe some flowers too.

“Oh all right.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and then looked over at Joshua, shaking his head, but unable to hide a grin.

*

 

 

 END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay happy fluff ot3 FTW.


End file.
